This Game We Play
by NotMyself
Summary: Bloodline Fan fiction. It's like Quincey/Lily, but in modern day Seattle! Michael Shaw must repeat his uncle's past to save his family's future, but Carmandy, the girl he must marry, can't stand him. Read and Review, please!


Sitting out on the balcony of his bedroom window, Michael Shaw gazed up at the moon beside his thirteen year old sister, his silence darkening the imposing space even more than Fiona thought possible.

"It's too cold," Muttered Fiona to her older brother and mentor. "I want to go inside."

"Father will call us in within moments," He muttered. He swept his hair from his pale forehead, and of course, a servant came to the balcony where the two teenagers sat. He poked his head warily out, watching the two young people- and the one young immortal vampire. Michael Shaw frowned at him, the very picture of boredom. He looked, the servant mused, so much like his uncle Quincey Harker, who had disappeared form the castle shortly after the death of his fiancee, more than 80 years ago.

"What is it, sir?" Asked bright, happy looking little Fiona Shaw. She was the very picture of innocence, the bright center in a world of darkness, looking so much like the very fiancee who had committed suicide in this very room, Lillian Shaw. She's thrown herself from the balcony, if the stories were true, hitting the rocks below to avoid becoming one of the undead.

"Stevenson!" Snapped Michael after he did not respond. "What is it that you needed?" Holm Stevenson snapped out of his trance after the vampire's pale hand snapped in front of his eyes.

"Sir John must speak to you, Mr. Shaw," He said loyally, looking down to avoid the teenager's black eyes. He was so very mature, compared to Stevenson's own two children, this heir to the House of Dracul. It was very scary, though not as scary as the temper of the boy.

"What does he want?" Fiona inquired silently. Not taking his eyes from the floor, Stevenson shrugged.

"I am not trusted with information, my lady. I only deliver it. All I know is that you are needed, sir." Michael glared back once more at the servant suspiciously, as if he was waiting for him to admit more, but he said nothing, so Michael pushed past him and left the room.

As soon as the door slammed, Fiona spoke. "Well, that was interesting. What is really happening, Holm?"

"I know not the truth, Miss, but I think that the bride that has been spoken of for months has finally come of age." Fiona was silent, letting this realization flood her system.

"My brother is twenty, almost. He will be twenty by next month."

"I know, miss." Holm sighed heavily.

"My brother is getting married. I am now alone here. A baby human among vampires."

"You're going to be a vampire soon enough, my lady," He reminded her.

"But my brother shall be more powerful than I shall ever be. I will be younger, also." She whispered. "But, oh, my brother is getting married."

"I'm getting MARRIED?" Shouted Michael, staring at his father in disbelief. "But why? What sway do you have over my fate?"

"I am your father!" Johnathan Shaw bellowed, glaring at his son. He appeared still a young blond, the only mark on his pale skin the place where his eye had been gouged out by holy water.

"Tu cant control-ma!" Michael yelled in response, his black eyes flashing dangerously.

"I'm not going to fight with you on this, son. It's been decided. Aristodeme has come of age, and you're going to be almost two years older than her, very soon. Best get it over with." He looked pained.

"You talk about her as though she is horrible!" Sneered the nineteen year old.

His father leaned across the table, grabbing Michael's shirt and pulling him up in the air. "I knew her parents, boy. Do not talk about their child like that. The Puternicline is almost as old as ours, and much more prominent. They actually live among the humans- well, they did. Aristodeme is the only one left, since Jacqueline and Johann died the year she left for America."

"When did she leave?"

"Sixteen years ago."

"Where did she go? Where am I to find her?" He asked impatiently.

His father frowned, letting his son go, and Michael collapsed into one of the seats. "In the town of Seattle, Washington." Michael stood, sighing deeply and avoiding his father's eyes, his movements hostile.

"I'll go pack, then." He turned away, moving toward the antique oak door.

"Michael."

He turned once more to his father, a glare on his face and a smirk on his lips. "What?"

"You remember the story of your aunt, right? My sister and half brother, Quincey and Lily?"

"Yes, I do. Isn't it illegal to marry your siblings?"

"I shared a mother with Lily and a father with Quincey! You know that they were not related." He glared at his son, forcing him to grin.

"Yes, father. I was merely kidding. Please continue."

"Well, my sister killed herself after she found out what Quincey was- a vampire. She did not want to become one of the undead, and she was aware that however long she lived, she would always be attracted to him in a way that she could not deny. So she found a way out of it. That was the day I became immortal by Quincey's mother's bite- and the day I lost my baby sister. The one I always promised to care for," he seemed to soften for a moment as he gazed upon the picture Michael knew he kept on his desk, an old photograph of Lillian Shaw,"and though I did not seem to care at the time, I did. I killed his mother in revenge. But do not let your story end like this. Do not let Aristodeme Puternic die, and keep her from wanting to. I'll admit that I hate my half-brother, but he did love my dear lily." He glowered darkly. "And Mary."

"Excuse me? Who's Mary?" Asked Michael curiously.

"No one. Promise me that you will heed my words, my son."

Michael sighed. "Fine. May I leave now?"

"Go, then. And Michael?"

"What?"

"Good luck, my only son. May fate be with you."

Michael rolled his eyes at his father's dramatics, shutting the door and rushing down the hallway to pack. Fiona met him at the doorway to his room, her eyes bright in the dark, gloomy space.

"Michael!" She cried joyously. "You're getting married! I'm going to have a sister-in-law!"

"Hush up, would you?" He snapped irritatedly. "I have to pack. And tell no one what you heard-how did you hear, anyway?" She paused.

"I have my sources. Now, I'm going to go and pack, too!"

He stared at her. "You're joking."

She shook her head. "Mother said that I have to be there for you. For both of you." Michael bit down on his lip hard as he heard the word _mother,_something that Annette Shaw had never been. Soon after Fiona's birth, she'd become a recluse alcoholic. Before Fiona's birth she'd had a problem with her drinking, but nothing really terrible- in fact, Michael had never seen her drunk. But soon her marriage also was destroyed, and so she disappeared into the castle- no one, except for Fiona, was really sure where. And she wasn't telling.

"Are you going to listen to her, really?" She nodded avidly, looking shocked.

"Why wouldn't I? She's our mother!"

"Oh, that woman is no mother to me. Try as we may, we will never have the oh so special bond that mother and son always have." He said sarcastically. She rolled her eyes, glaring up at her tall brother.

"Well, I have to go back. Goodbye." She turned on her heel and disappeared. He sighed, looked once more around the space, and turned to walk into his room.

"Seattle is too rainy!" Cried Fiona as soon as they landed in the Emerald City, and retrieved their bags, and hailed a taxi. It had been almost two weeks since their father's announcement, and all Michael had been able to think of was the girl, Aristodeme, as her real name was. He knew for a fact that she was now going by the name Carmandy, though he had no clue why. He had her address, her bio, and everything about her memorized, right down to her height, 5' 6", and he wanted to know nothing more. She wasn't really that important, anyway. Just another person standing in the way of his fate.

"What?" He asked absentmindedly. He was really lost, looking around this city- it was nothing like his father had explained. Then again, his father had not left Romania in more than 80 years.

"It's raining!"

"I can see that."

"Let's go to- oh, my god! There's an art museum! Let's go there!" She rushed out of the taxi as it stopped, running through traffic at breakneck speed with the agility of a cat. With a shout of annoyance, he followed his sister under a statue in the shape of a man with a hammer, darting in the door an instant after her.

Suddenly, they both paused. "Hello! Welcome to the Seattle Art Museum! Would you like some information about what's going on this month?"

As they turned to the young brunette who spoke, Fiona grinned and Micheal's face stayed neutral.

"Hello, Aristodeme!" Cried Fiona loudly.

For that is who it was.


End file.
